Atlantica - 01.02.2006, Page 28

26 AT L A N T I CA
Above: A painting of the Russian Orthodox
Church’s holy icon, “Our Lady of Kazan,” by
St. Petersburg artist Sergey Kiselev.
axim spoons a golf ball of butter onto my pelmini. “Stir that
in,” he says, “and then take a bite with some of that.” He
points to a tub of crème fraiche sitting on the round kitchen
table littered with glasses. “The fat is going to help you,”
Maxim continues. “You have no problems tomorrow.”
I stir the butter into the generous bowl of traditional Russian meat dump-
lings bought at an all-night corner store along with a third bottle of vodka.
It’s just after midnight. Dumpling steam rises up in my face, and I begin to
think maybe it will all be okay tomorrow. But Maxim is standing up. “First,
we drink!” he holds his glass up, eyebrows raised, smiling. He has poured
another round.
COULD 140 MILLION RUSSIANS BE WRONG?
We had been traveling from Helsinki toward St. Petersburg for over six
hours on the Finnish train Sibelius, listening to the thrum-thrum-thrum of
the wheels on their tracks as we passed through a whitewash of oncom-
ing snow and spindly winter forests.
We were closing in on the Russian border. I had only two plans.
My first was one of survival: stay warm. St. Petersburg was having its
coldest winter in over 50 years. A week before we arrived, it was –30°C.
Reports sounded apocalyptic: people being hospitalized for frostbite,
and fires breaking out around the city from misused radiators. By the
time we arrived, the temperature had risen to about –15°C. An Ottawan
I know says you can start complaining at –20°C. Close enough.
My second plan was also one of survival. I didn’t know what to expect
in St. Petersburg, but knew I wasn’t going to get out of this city without
drinking some vodka. Which I rarely drink. Which when I do, rarely
yields good things.
Certainly in Russia, too, vodka consumption has a dark side, where an
estimated 40,000 people die from alcohol poisoning every year. Alcohol
is charged with the low life expectancy of Russian men, as well as with
deaths throughout the nation from toxic bootleg vodka batches sold to
unsuspecting customers.
But as many Russians would tell you, there is a less extreme world
of vodka out there. The spirit goes hand in hand with weddings, births,
family dinners, saying goodbye to old friends, and meeting new ones. I
thought if I could get to the bottom of a glass of vodka, I’d be at least
one sip closer to Russia. As the Soviet-era saying goes, “Vodka is our
enemy, so let’s finish it off.”
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